Chain Reaction
by Teza-Wowsie
Summary: Chain reactions always start with one choice. Every choice has an effect. Every effect reacts with your choice. Be careful how you play a game. No matter how much you play, there is always a greater player. [Alternate Universe one-shot. May become a proper fan-fiction in the future. ]


This may spin off into a proper fan-fiction at a later date.

* * *

Breaths panted.

Deep. Sharp. Shaky. Uneven.

The speed of each lungful of air increasing as the seconds passed, the bearers throat heaving with each razor sharp intake. The night sky had darkened all, stars hidden behind the few clouds, leaving only the moons light to shine as the soul source of light. There was nothing else around, nobody else processing in the beings mind. Faint murmured shouts could be heard, thumps and bangs crashing across the distance of the large open area. They could do nothing but ignore it, nothing but keep moving forward.

Now or never.

Time was ticking. It was now or never. There was no option for another choice of thought. This had to be done. There was no other road, no other way. The deal had reached its peaked and turned sour. Arms swung desperately at their owners side, feet and legs moving with a rapid speed in time with the former action, the moist ground under their feet sticking to their shoes, delaying the possible outcome. Delaying the needed outcome. How had it come to this? How had they chosen this? Why had it become this way? It couldn't. It wouldn't. They would not allow it.

Now or never.

Now or never.

Chain reactions always start with one choice.

That gun shot, the very one they'd been moving for, the one they'd been hoping wouldn't come, sounded, followed by screech like a banshees. A searing pain burned, cursed, taunted their skin. A sudden coldness overcome their being, all but the burning amplifying from their chest. Slowly, unwillingly, darkened eyes glanced down, the very bloody draining from the victims face at the pooling blur of blood within the darkness that was seeping across their clothing. It was them. It had been them. Their eyes gave a steady blink, almost as if in a daze. Each second passing caused their body to become colder, numb, the very life feeling as though something was sucking it from their soul. That burning hole in their chest remained and their heart pumped loudly around their mind.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

The sound gushed their ears. Their vision red, blurred.. teary. Brown hair drifted with the breeze as finally understanding dawned and acceptance settled. They were dying. Calmly, almost sadly, a smile graced their lips as their eyes curled into small curved moons. There was nothing to say now, not yet. They understood.. They understood. One arm raised, fingers outstretching as their strength allowed them to wave their hand once in a salute, sadly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't complete my task, Cap. Looks like I failed."

Finally their body fell.

The being meeting the dirt.

The burning gone.

* * *

Trafalgar Law was a shady male. His profession was a little more than an average job. Well.. as average as one could get. During the days he would handle business calls, trade goods abroad and work in doctoring, whether legal or not. When the moon came, however, Trafalgar sold goods. Illegal goods; drugs. His house was average, only filled with the privileged stuff he'd wanted. The house was shared accommodation, he and his childhood friends living together.

They consisted of Bepo, the one he trusted most and had known the longest, Shachi, who he'd met through Bepo and Penguin who he'd met through Shachi. They looked out for one another and always remained sure to have one another's backs. Law had somewhat become the ring leader of them all, ending up with the nickname Captain. Though that had started when they were children playing pirates, somehow the name just stuck.

For the past five years he'd been borrowing money off other high named dealers, allowing him the values to continue his oversea businesses. It was not that he did not have enough money. He did. There was just never enough money that one could have. Never once had he even paid back a single pound of that money. That was why he'd ended up in the situation he was. That's why Shachi was…

"It's been well over an hour," Trafalgar murmured, leaning his body forward on the hospitals waiting room chair as his tattooed blood drenched fingers agitatedly ran through his unkempt hair, tugging. Shadowed grey eyes watched the floor between his knees, his mind ignoring the aching pain of his elbows digging into him. The second Shachi had been shot the assailants had vanished, leaving the scene and leaving Law aiding his friends dying body. He'd known that the task he'd asked Shachi to do was dangerous. He'd known he could get hurt but this.. This wasn't what he'd expected.

"Aye, aye," he lowly heard from the other companion within the waiting room, Bepo. The second Trafalgar had reached the hospital with Shachi, he'd rang Bepo immediately. He was the one who wouldn't judge him. Not out loud, at least. Trafalgar had really fucked up this time. He knew that any judgement given would be deserved but his chosen companions were far too loyal.

"I'll get him for this," Trafalgar declared with clenched teeth, pushing his fidgeting body up from the chair in choice of pacing the corridor in anticipation He could hear the null sound of a single buzz coming from the machine within the nearby operating room. He could hear it and every second.. every second was antagonising and slow. He could feel his own heartbeat rushing through his ears. Being medically knowledgeable himself, he'd known the bullet wound was severe. He'd known. "I'll get Donqui—"

All oncoming thoughts stopped as a medical clad male exited the operating room, his own body as drenched in blood as Trafalgar's own. For a second it felt like his heart had stopped, that all time had stopped.. then the surgeon shook his head, a regretful gleam hinted within his eyes.

Shachi hadn't made it.

Trafalgar's hands dropped, his lips releasing a shaky and heavy breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. Slowly, Law drifted his gaze to his companion, eyeing him with a gaze such as that of a lost puppy. His inner mind felt ready to crack, as though all form of thought had died and left him lifeless. He could see Bepo was going to say nothing. He could see he felt just as he did. Where did they go from here? Law'd never expected one of his friends to die because of him.

Reality always managed to kick in at some point, even if it was in painful ways.

Should he scream, shout. punch, vent? What should he do?! At first he did nothing. He remained standing still, unmoving, just watching the regret in the others face before flicking his gaze momentarily to the surgeon as he brushed past him, leaving to clean himself up. If only it was all that simple.

"…You deal with stuff here," he ordered Bepo, almost requesting, pleading in his eyes as he took a single step back. "Give the crew the news. I'll.." Law really needed some fresh air. The pace his stomach was churning could not be healthy. It felt as though everything he'd not eaten was trying to escape, trying to combust within his being. Was this what regret felt like?

"I'll be back," he declared, backing out of the room, leaving his companion to clean up the situation of Shachi as he attempted to contain his thoughts, his anger. Donquixote had gone too far this time. To think that somebody like family would pull such a stunt. Yes, he did owe him money but family was different.. family was.. there. Trafalgar would be sure that his revenge would be served. He'd not allow the bastard to get away with this.

The second the automatic hospitals main doors parted, Trafalgar revelled in the cool air that lapped around his face and into his lungs. He just needed to walk somewhere, he needed to clear his head. That was exactly what he did. Trafalgar's footfalls drifted along the floor, each tap of his heel becoming a rhythmic pattern within his mind as he wandered aimlessly. There was no goal in mind but the small bridge he came to was a welcomed sight. It was silent, dark and somewhere his thoughts could plague him without witnesses.

Long fingers fiddled with the zips to his black and yellow jumper pockets, pulling a single cigarette out before placing it between his thinned, firm lips and lighting its tip. Distantly, he noted the sound of the leaves crinkling within the trees around him, the sound of the wind whistling, the sound of the rivers waves under the bridge. He could do little but stare into the moons reflection at himself, locking gaze with his own eyes as he instinctively took drags from the cigarette though clenched teeth.

Shachi was dead.

Doflamingo was going to pay.

"Donquixote-ya," that name was his bane.


End file.
